Don’t Judge Me

I had a trip today for a friend of mine in his Bonanza. The passengers were some of his employees checking out a job site. I have flown them several times now and we have gone to Thermal Airport in Palm Springs every time. On my first visit I was directed to a small Indian Casino as the nearest “decent” restaraunt around.

I took the crew car and followed the directions to a small single story building that looked more like an light commercial/industrial building than a casino. I thought twice about it and decided to go ahead and try it out. Turns out that they have an extraordinarily tasty turkey club sandwich (which comes with avocado – yum!) and a reasonable batch of iced tea. And budget priced as well.

Unfortunately, you have to fight your way through a smoke-filled casino to find this hidden treasure of tasty turkey. I have managed my way through every time sans any temptation whatsoever. To put it plainly, I hate gambling. I enjoy the numbers and odds and cards and all, but not when it comes to giving them my hard earned money.

Thrice have I cruised through the den of inquity without nary a tinge of temptation to drop a few coins into a slot machine or plunk down a buck or two on the black jack table.

Today ended that streak.

How in the world did it happen you ask? I know not.

I had finished my tasty-as-ever club sandwich and was on my way out, when Satan’s temptor reached out from a penny slot machine and grabbed me. I felt instantly ashamed and remorseful as the machine cooly wisked my ten dollar bill into its ever starving mouth.

I thought, “Just push the cash-out button and walk over to the desk and leave” but something about those blinking frogs would not let me go. I punched in my bet and gave the handle a pull. Another wave of guilt and remorse washed over me. A bigger one hit when I did not win “the big one.”

Suffice it say, I played it for several more minutes, basically losing more than I won. Fortunately it was only penny slots so winning and losing was really a matter of nickles and dimes.

Then it happened. Jeremiah the Bull Frog came over the speakers. I thought to myself, “This is it, I am gonna hit it big now.” Just in case you missed it above, I was playing some machine that featured “kiss the magic frog” and win! Why did I choose that one? Only Satan’s temptor knows.

I punched in my bet and pulled the handle. Flashing lights, loud noises and ding… nothing!

I punched in my bet and pulled the handle. Flashing lights, loud noises and ding… nothing!

I punched in my bet and pulled the handle. Flashing lights, loud noises and ding… nothing!

I punched in my bet and pulled the handle. Flashing lights, loud noises and ding… winner winner chicken dinner!

I hit the big one with Jeremiah the Bull Frog and Mr. Magical Frog. Whoohoooo!

I was up $13.88. And I ran. Take the money and run, I always say.

All in all, I hated the entire experience. Even the winning moment was fleeting as I took my sad little paper ticket to the pit, got my cash and walked my way back out the smoke house.

Probably the last time for me for a while. Sorry Las Vegas, no high stakes roller here.